


Study Session Suck Sometimes

by Jashiku



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, The Center, The Guide - Freeform, intellectual blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jashiku/pseuds/Jashiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre notices that Courfeyrac is bored with his studying and treats him to something special literally behind Enjolras's back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Study Session Suck Sometimes

Their exam is in two days but it has become a tradition of sorts for the trio to use up one day studying  
so that they may rest the next day. Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac had their own schedules but they all attended the same ancient history class which called for a few quizzes and tests at a time. The one they studied for currently was going to be a big one-- the exam that covered most everything. 

They started their session at Combeferre's apartment in the afternoon, going two hours at a time with breaks in between, though those hours seemed to double as time went on.   
By ten in the evening, their debates and quizzing and occasional tomfoolery quieted down into silent reading, each young student taking his time to soak up whatever else there was to study.   
Though there were no sounds now but the rustling of pages and the scribbling of notes, Courfeyrac had gotten restless. He found himself more staring at his notes than actually reading, and more dreaming than memorizing. When he looked up from his studies to rest his eyes, they fell upon Combeferre's active hand, jotting down his own set of notes in hand-writing that befitted the gods. Honestly, even Combeferre's chicken-scratch was glorious.

His gaze continued after admiring the other's writing, moving up in a steady scan from the bend of his wrist to the crook of his arm, past a slender shoulder, up his neck, lips, sharp nose, then finally stopping at brown eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses, which were pointedly looking back at him. Courfeyrac's breath caught in his throat when he realized that Combeferre had stopped writing and noted that his lips were shaped in an amused smile.

This happened often during their study sessions, with the getting distracted and the looking at each other. It was only ever between Combeferre and Courfeyrac, though. They sat across from each other-- Courfeyrac on the leather arm chair, and Combeferre on the matching leather sofa. There was a second arm chair that could be inhabited by Enjolras, but the blond preferred to be crouched over his work as opposed to relaxed, and so he sat at the desk with his back to the two, completely oblivious to their antics and free of distraction. It wasn't as though Combeferre tired easy when he studied, but the young student with the glasses understood the value of rest while Enjorlas saw it as a waste of time. Courfeyrac was an excellent student, but of the three of them, he had the hardest time focusing for too long. He could only take so much.

So while Enjorlas, their Chief, was crouched over his work like a philosopher looking for the answers to life, the Guide caught sight of the Center's gaze and now they were looking at each other. This wasn't strange, this wasn't new. But the encounter never failed to make Courfeyrac's face go just a tinge red and turn away with his own amused smile, like a joke had been shared between them. He unfolded his legs to set his feet on the ground, then placed his binder and text book on the coffee table, so that he was crouched over his work like Enjolras was, though he wasn't as comfortable since the coffee table was at level with the seat of the sofa.

He heard Combeferre move as well, clearing his throat like a signal before the older student was at level with him. But he wasn't crouched. He was the smart one who moved to sit on his knees so that he could comfortably work at the coffee table as well. But the distance between them was lessened and that was all that mattered.  
Another few moments of silence --Combeferre writing into his tiny notebook and Courfeyrac attempting to make sense of a line he'd read a hundred times over from his textbook-- and Courfeyrac was yawning a big one. He had the decency to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, but that didn't hide the fact that it happened, and it caught Combeferre's attention.  
The Guide reached over to write sideways at the top of the other's notes, "Sleepy?"

The Center looked down at it, then looked at the other, and shook his head defiantly. Combeferre gave him a look that wasn't convinced, and all Courfeyrac could do was shrug. Then he reached over to write in Combeferre's notebook, "Bored." almost ashamed that his handwriting looked like a third-grader's next to the other's, and Courfeyrac's writing wasn't all that bad to begin with.  
That response didn't surprise Combeferre in the least, and in fact Courfeyrac was the one made surprised when Combeferre lifted a hand to his eye to wipe off a tear formed from the other's massive yawning. Courfeyrac managed not to jerk backwards, only looking a little flustered at the gesture. The look on the older student's face suggested, "I could tell."  
Courfeyrac let out a silent breath of laughter before pretending to throw himself into his study. He shifts so that he was sitting cross-legged on the floor now, and beneath the coffee table, he could feel their knees almost touch, if only he shifted forward a little bit more.

Another moment passes, and Courfeyrac feels his restlessness stir into something else. His daydreams weren't so much as daydreams as they were desires, and his desires took the shape of Combeferre's face, his sharp nose, his smiling lips, the shape of his jaw, his neck, a bare shoulder, an active hand--

And he was yanked back into reality when that active hand was on his forearm, stroking upwards slowly to rest briefly at his bicep before returning to his forearm once more. Courfeyrac looked up from his notes to find the other student looking at him attentively, a smile that suggested a million things adorning his lips. He felt a lump form in his throat, but as he knew what this meant, he swallowed that lump and leaned forward. 

They'd done this before, this wasn't a surprise, but it always made his heart leap when Combeferre leaned forward as well, closing the distance between them until their lips touched. Their contact was always silent, both unwilling to disturb their Chief in his fierce study. So perhaps it wasn't just all catching gazes and holding them. There was always more. 

In a moment, they were drawing back, and quickly Courfeyrac's gazed darted from Enjorlas back to Combeferre. The blond was still crouched over, oblivious to anything that was happening around him. When he turned back to Combeferre, he had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. This was always funny to him. They could be doing so many things, and as long as they were quiet, Enjolras wouldn't care. And indeed they'd done a few things in the many times that they'd studied like they did.

Combeferre looked amused, even thrilled. Beneath the coffee table, all Courfeyrac heard was a shuffle before he felt a pressure on his groin, and it was hard not to hold back a gasp, but he managed. His eyes looked down to see Combeferre's foot between his thighs, rubbing at the spot suggestively and slow, making the young student squirm. When he rose his eyes, red-faced, to the other male, he was aghast to see that Combeferre was smirking. It was gentle, and warm, if that were possible, but devious in every way possible. Courfeyrac scowled, but didn't stop him. He felt the other's foot knead and press and roll his crotch, and pressed his lips together so as not to moan out loud. His hands were fists on the coffee table, one hand gripping tightly at his lead pencil.

He saw Combeferre move forward once more and welcomed a kiss that was more tongue than lips, and let the other make a trail of possession down his neck. Courfeyrac was seeing stars, and was forgetting where he was. He shot a hand up to grip at the other's brown hair, ruining the formation Combeferre had fixed them in that afternoon.

It was too sudden when Combeferre stopped, drawing back and gently prying Courfeyrac's hand out of his hair. (He fixed it with a swipe of his hand, making the tousle of it look stylish on his head.) Though the younger student was disapproving, they both turned to see if perhaps their Chief had heard, and were both relieved that the only movement Enjolras made was to turn a page of his textbook.

Then both young men looked at one another once more, with mirroring desires and a sort of thrill in their eyes. Combeferre was casual in his movements as he stood from his spot, no doubt standing still a moment so that the pin prickles in his legs settled before he walked over to Courfeyrac's side of the coffee table. He didn't sit on his knees until he beckoned Courfeyrac to sit on the arm chair with a quiet pat of his hand on the leather cushion.

Once that was done, he sat on his knees between the other's legs and began to undo the other's pants as carefully and as quietly as he could. Courfeyrac felt like his lungs were about to fail, then realized he'd been holding his breath, breathless as he already was. More frequently, he turned his head to see if their Chief had decided he wanted to rest or turned around to see what they were up to, and as excited as he was about what was about to happen, he couldn't help but feel stressed. Combeferre must have sensed this because he stops his ministrations briefly to push Courfeyrac against the chair and plant an assuring kiss on his lips before lowering back down with a sly smile. Courfeyrac was going to go insane.

But he sank back into the chair and practically melted when Combeferre first held his now-erect member, very obvious and practically radiant in the bright, yellow-lighting of the living room. It was given a few gentle strokes, eliciting from Courfeyrac very quiet gasps. He had to bite his knuckles to keep from make anymore sounds. But he couldn't keep his eyes off the older student.   
Combeferre licked his lips before he parted them to slip that erect member into his mouth, and Courfeyrac almost cried out. He felt the other give him a harsh suck before Combeferre unsheathed him and put a finger to his smiling lips. That same finger moved up to slip the glasses off his nose so he could place them on the coffee table on top of Courfeyrac's notes. Then he engulfed the Center once more.

"Oh Go--" the younger student receiving the treatment had to place both hands over his mouth as it was becoming increasingly difficult to contain his noises. It was also becoming much harder to breathe so he couldn't very well do that for too long if he didn't want to die in the experience. Perhaps if he concentrated on Combeferre's eyes, he'd be able to keep it together. 

The Guide had his eyes half-mast, eyelashes making the browns of his eyes darker and much more sinister. But despite that, he looked at ease, with no sign of strain on his face. Courfeyrac wondered how was it that Combeferre looked so absolutely concentrated and professional while giving someone a blowjob. 

When those eyes met his, however, he realized too late that concentrating on those had been a bad idea and just at that he felt himself very close to release. "Fuck--!"

They both heard a creek to their right (Combeferre's left) where Enjorlas was, and it was only Courfeyrac who turned to see if they'd finally been caught. But Enjolras still had his back to them and he'd only raised his hand to swat at their direction dismissively. "Could you guys keep it down? I've almost got something figured out."

It was really hard not to just laugh out loud right then, because the situation, to the young student, was the funniest thing. But he managed, replying with a casual, although breathless, "Yeah-- Sorry."

He'd had to bite his tongue when he felt Combeferre move faster below him, unsheathing and sheathing, tongue swirling and cushioning, throat constricting when his head hit the back, the suctions-- oh God, the suctions! 

Courfeyrac managed to give the other a warning by bending forward and putting his lips next to the other's ear with a "I'm really close." and it only took a few more bobs of Combeferre's head before the younger student felt himself fall into oblivion, sinking back into the leather arm chair and muffling a moan into his fist. If he were to look at his hand, there would be obvious bite marks there.  
If anyone could make a blowjob neat, it was Combeferre. Once he got more than just the pre-come, he drew his head back and opened wide so as not to choke on the fluid but to gather it into his mouth, onto his tongue. One hand held the other's member steady while the other cupped it at the head so that none would spill onto the carpet or onto his sweater.

Courfeyrac was resting while Combeferre lapped up what did spill, then wiped the rest off with a tissue that he took from a tissue box that stood close by. That done, he did up Courfeyrac's pants and patted his thighs as though that were the signal for the deed being done. He gave Enjolras a brief look before standing up and leaning forward to press his lips to Courfeyrac's own, making him taste the flavour of his own seed. Courfeyrac pushed back, coaxing tongue to wrestle with tongue until Combeferre had to pull away, equally breathless, and return to his side of the coffee table. He places his glasses back on his nose, and gives the other a smile that could only suggest hidden laughter. Courfeyrac is a little bit miffed that that had just been done, but he can't deny that smile and the situation, and how often this has happened, so he chuckles, then stops when he hears the creaking of a chair to his right.

Enjolras has twisted his body this time to look at the both of them, his eyes red from the study, mouth set in what feels like an eternal frown. "What's so funny?"

By this point, Courfeyrac can't stop himself from laughing out loud and does just that, making Combeferre shake his head. "He's lost it." was the older student's answer.

"Maybe you should rest." suggested Enjorlas. "It's getting pretty late." and he, too, yawns as though to enforce that.

"Our fearless leader is suggesting rest?" teases Courfeyrac as though he hadn't just been given some special sexual treatment. Enjolras throws an eraser at him that he pretends is a bullet from a gun because when it hits his arm he's pretending that he's in immense pain. Enjolras rolls his eyes and Combeferre chuckles as he sets his things together and tucks them under his arm.

"I'm not opposed to that. How about I drive you home, Courf?" he says, and only Courfeyrac catches the suggestion in that suggestion and the glint in his eyes, and the strategic way Combeferre has tugged down at his shirt to hide the tent in his jeans.

Courfeyrac tries not to seem too eager to agree. After gathering his things into his bagpack he bids Enjorlas goodbye. Combeferre advises Enjolras to rest as well and assures him that he'll be back in a few minutes.

Then Courfeyrac is following Combeferre out the door, and they're only in the elevator when their bodies crush together and their mouths make contact, and their hands wander. They eventually make it to Combeferre's car, but they don't leave for a while, and Enjolras notes that it's been more than just a few minutes and wonders what has become of his Guide.

End


End file.
